No time was left. Packing had to begin; unpaid bills had to be paid; unsent letters had to be sent; and favors had to be returned. The clock was ticking - time was inpatient. My hours in Ottawa were numbered and soon they became minutes and eventually the countdown ended. The game was over. The taxi I ordered came exactly on time. It felt as if the way out of the city was presenting itself so easily and I wasn't ready to leave... not yet. I was swimming against the strong, treacherous flow. I was waiting for something to happen... some unexplained excuse in the eleventh hour that would compel me to stay. But it didn't come. I recalled the events of the past few months - such memories! But the bus arrived at the alloted hour and it drove me out of those memories, out of Ottawa... out of home.